This is the 21st section of my novel. If you haven’t read the first 20, you might want to start here.

Electric Lights
—-

Minus was aware that he was unconscious. He knew he was seeing his past. He saw the memory from the third-person. He was shocked when he heard his own voice begin to narrate the memory.

I lie awake at night, watching the air sparkle, like electricity.

When I was a child, they told me these things were not real. But, one day, I reached out and grabbed at a sparkling strand. When I did, life changed, and fell, and melted.

Shortly thereafter, I found my nine-year-old self standing at the foot of a long staircase cut out of rock, laid with wood, and dirt, and cement in certain places. I was utterly confused. I did not know where I was, or how I got there, but I started running up the stairs. I remember tripping over a step, and falling. My knees and elbows were scraped, searing with pain. I blacked out.

When I woke up, I was on a sofa, in a large, rustic house. A fire crackled in front of me. I sat up, surveying the room. There was a grisly old man sitting in a chair across from me.

“Hi there,” he spoke when he noticed I was awake. “What brought you to my steps, young man? Few people show up around here these days. My name is Othin, what’s yours?”

I stammered through a story of the confusion and the electricity, and the sparkles. Othin merely nodded as the story went on.

“I understand,” Othin said as the story came to a close. “I have a feeling I know your father. Let’s talk. There are two pills on that table next to you. Take the red one, it’ll make this easier..”

That little pill that tasted like jelly, was the cause of a grand awakening in Minus. Grabbing that electric spark had changed his life. Curiosity. Insatiable. And it would be that way for the rest of his life.

He thought about this for a long time in the black-out that was forced meditation.

This is the 15th section of my novel. If you haven’t read the first 14, you might want to start here.

Still Dreaming
—-

Minus walked up a hill. He could feel the cobbled stones under his large, buckled boots. The city was dark and dreary today. A fast rain falling down.

He felt a strong determination in his purpose. He had been charged with delivering a letter of loyalty from his lord, to the Queen. The Queen had few loyal Governors these days. This letter would hopefully spark other pledges of honor from the Dukes and Governors of the land.

He came to the palace door. The roof hung over a small entry way. He took a time out to ring the water out of his clothes and hair, and to check that the package had not gotten wet.

A steward approached him and inquired about his purpose. He explained who he was and what he delivered. The steward rushed off, and two guards came to Minus in a few short minutes, the steward behind them.

“The Queen will see you now,” said the steward.

The guards escorted Minus into the throne room. He looked upon the Queen and saw a shimmering silver light around her.

This is the thirteenth section of my novel. If you haven’t read the first twelve, you might want to start here.

In Which Minus Dreams A Memory
—-
He runs across the roof tops. This city is dense and the alley ways are small. He jumps, falls short, dangling with a one-handed grip on the bricks. He let’s go.

Rive.

He hits the large, overly stuffed bed hard. Panting and sweating in his full John Constantine regalia. Suit, overcoat, cigarette in mouth, all dripping wet. His mind raced. Had his pursuers seen the rive he had opened? He didn’t know who they were, was uncertain of their abilities. Aside from the fact that they were inhumanly fast.

They shot through alacrity with a focus that matched his own. This was very rare. Understanding alacrity had driven more men mad, than had ever been able to run with it. The problem people have with the magic of speed is that after the first taste, it’s never fast enough again. Always trying for more. You can see perfection in the distance. And anytime you can see true perfection, it’s dangerous.

After a few minutes, Minus knew that they had not traced his rive. He relaxed a bit, then reached for some dry clothes.

***

Back in Jerusalem, the three men dressed in black, stood surveying the rooftops and alley ways. Wet footprints ended and never started again. They were confused, but not worried. He could hide all he wanted, but he could never out run them.

Even so, the Three-Headed Lion would not be happy with his extensively trained alacrity spotters. He had dug their souls from Hell, and trained them for a reason. He needed them in this war. This was not like the last.